Retired
by Tardisblueskys
Summary: And sometimes as he sits on those clouds and observes he remembers. And he wishes he could forget.


**A Devil By Any Other Name**

Summary: And sometimes as he sits on those clouds and observes he remembers. And he wishes he could forget.

* * *

It's over now, he thinks as he shuts the doors. This renegade period. Saving people.

It's over now. I'm finally done saving them.

He watches from the clouds. Always watching, never interfering. Because a millennia later he finally understands why the Time Lords didn't touch the planets they visited. Because in a lifespan as long as theirs, one touch will live with them forever. They knew what he couldn't comprehend. They weren't weak for not saving them. They were right. He's saved them so many times. And all he gets in return is heartbreak.

"I don't do this anymore," He practically spits at them. He's done . It's over. It's not been fun. Leave him alone. "I've retired." Vastra looks at him with utter worry.

Don't you get it? Leave him alone, you stupid lizard. He just wants to watch. He's done saving.

He slips back into the TARDIS. Let's her fly back to the clouds. He doesn't pilot her anymore. He never had to. She can pilot herself. He doesn't need to. So why should he?

By now she knows not to take him to another dimension. It's over now. They don't do this anymore. They won't save you. The Doctor of the TARDIS is done. They still call him. Pitiful, unsuccessful attempts to get him to do something- anything. They still try. They want him to be the old him. Tough luck. The Doctor's dead. To the universe at least.

He'll never reach the Fields of Trenzalore. He'll never send River to the library. He'll never become the Valeyard. Maybe if he stays like this forever, nothing bad will happen. River won't die. The universe won't die. The Valeyard will never exist.

He's saving the universe. Be happy. He won't hurt you anymore.

He reasons with himself. Makes up reasons as to why he's doing a good thing.

He sees the blue bow-tie hanging on the door. His eyes darken. And the next thing he knows his old prized possession is in pieces on the floor. Another memory he doesn't need destroyed. As he walks away, his boot stomps on the old piece of fabric.

He should have let himself die that day. He should have let Amy and Rory would never have gotten taken. He wouldn't be able to see River off to the library. She'd never go. He wouldn't have become this.

What's wrong with this? He's helping people still. He's not getting involved. How many lives are being saved now that he's stopped?

It's over now. He's done.

It's over now. It's gone.

It's like a mantra he chants. He thinks it as he throws those horrible horrible memories into space. His old tweed jacket. The suspenders. His last bowtie.

And he's free. Free of the Doctor's control.

He can't help but think how much that sounded like something the Dream Lord or Valeyard would have said. He ignores himself. It doesn't matter anymore. Even if he dies it doesn't matter. He could disappear and no one would notice.

He already has.

He already disappeared from the universe long before he gave up. Long before he watched them disappear forever. Before his eyes set on that gravestone. He's a hero. That's what they used to tell him. What they always used to say. Right before their planet explodes and they burn with it. And he used to feel something for them. Now he'll sit by and watch.

Let them burn.

Just like him.

Let them burn together.

Whilst he burns alone.

Because a devil with any other name is still just as evil.

He doesn't wear the clothes of another time now. He's passed that phase. He lives in one era and one place now. Traveling is a forgotten concept to him.

'Don't be alone Doctor.' Amy had written. He's not. The TARDIS is here. She's enough right?

And even as he convinces himself that it's true, he can't seem to fill the gaping hole left by the loneliness of his life. It never seems to help the fact that he feels like he can never seen to drag in enough air, can't seem to fill the hole in his lungs begging for an ounce of joy.

He ignores himself. And he watches. And when the Great Detective calls him again, he ignores her.

He sits on the cloud and observes the world. Watches the happy children run on the streets. Watches then laugh and slip and play in the snow. Never having bad dreams.

At least that is good. At least they don't have nightmares.

He bites back the next thought, but it slips through regardless of his efforts.

Unlike him.

He wonders if Amy would be happy. He's doing this for her. Her and Rory. He's helping people and he's stopped hurting them. He's doing good.

It's over now. So why does he still want to stop this and save?

He's retired, but they won't let him rest. They've tried contacting him. Every time he ignores them. They can deal with it themselves. He doesn't care that Strax is planning on bombing the moon, thank you very much Vastra. He doesn't care that a giant Cyberman is terrorizing the city. He'll deal with it anyway. Just not him.

Time travel. You can't keep it straight in your head. He's glad he's done with it.

And maybe one day he'll quench the thirst for adventure and the need for other people. Maybe one day he'll learn to just watch. Never interfere. For now, he's trying. So hard, but he's learning. Learning to watch. Learning to forget emotion. Trying to forget his mercy.

It's over. I give up.

And sometimes as he sits on those clouds and observes he remembers. And he wishes he can forget. And he never notices the single trail of salt water that runs down his face.


End file.
